


Nails

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2019-01-19 05:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12404253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: A story about toe nails and something more. Something inexplicable. Unfathomable. Something that will make her do the waiting this time around.





	Nails

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

For infinitesimal, whose prose is poetry

**_____________________________________________________**

**Nails**

\-------------------------------------------------

It is well over midnight, and Lily Evans can’t figure out why, instead of having a nice, peaceful sleep, she’s alone in the common room painting her toenails red and green. The fire in the grate is almost out. She’d have to do something about it pretty soon. But for now, she’d rather just stay exactly where she is, hunched over so low that it almost looks as if she’s trying to kiss her big toe.

There is some sort of insane fixation that always comes with a three-inch tall bottle of nail polish. Lily doesn’t know why. There’s some possibility that she never will know. What she does know, however, is that every time she gets the sudden impulse to paint her nails, she is doomed to about thirty minutes (maybe even an hour) of painstaking, meticulous, laborious, sweat-inducing artistry. Not even artistry. Doodling. Doodlery.

Don’t bother me. I’m painting my toe nails. 

Indeed, how would one go about portraying a Christmas tree in very sparse amounts of nail?

“Perhaps you should use a pointed stick.”�

The suddenness of the whole thing make Lily’s current situation go from grave, to frenzied, to mortifying at incredible speed. She jumps, of course, when she hears the voice out of absolutely nowhere. (How typically Lily to be jumping over everything.) The bottle of polish, naturally, jumps along with her. After that it is all confusion and screaming. What she’d done so far with her nails was ruined, she isn’t breathing through her nose, and both she and the couch are bleeding sparkly red and green. 

James is cursing. He’s flailing his arms inanely, trying to think of a spell that would make it all better, that would make _everything_ better. There isn’t one.

“Evanesco!”� he shouts, and everything is tidied up in two seconds. “I’m sorry,”� he adds immediately. “I’m sorry. Have I made another permanent cock-up?”�

Lily sighs as she looks at her nails. “Not permanent.”� She looks up and glares. “It can all be solved with acetone. Although you’ve just made the last thirty minutes of my life completely insignificant.”�

“I’m sorry. I can paint your nails for you… if you want.”�

Lily looks up with an incredulous look on her face. 

“No, then. It was just a suggestion.”� James feels that a great percentage of her anger has abated. She is starting to breathe through her nose again. “May I?”� he asks, motioning toward an armchair.

“You may do whatever you want.”�

“Right,”� James mumbles as he sits down. “This is cozy.”�

“Sure.”�

James stands up again and pokes the fire. 

“Thanks,”� Lily says. “I meant to do that earlier. I was just… engrossed.”�

“Yeah. I’m sure nail polish does that to everyone.”�

“And you would know.”�

“Well, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and I have a pajama party once a month. You know… we do our hair, experiment with make-up, paint our toe nails. We talk about boys. And feelings. It’s all very exciting.”�

“Oh, so that’s what boys think of girly get-togethers, then.”�

“Yes, I would say so.”�

“You have it right then. Except you didn’t include the part where we take our clothes off and snog.”�

“I knew it.”� 

And it’s so pathetically male of him to have just said that that they actually spend a good number of the next few minutes laughing. Not because they find it so incredibly hilarious. It’s more the fact that she’s laughing and he’s laughing and they’re together and happy and it’s _exhilarating_. Her eyes twinkle and she giggles and he loves her so fucking much. 

Lily calms down and, smiling, asks “Why are you still awake?”�

“Because you are.”�

“Oh? And if I jumped off a cliff would you jump off too?”� 

“No. I’d catch you.”�

Staring. He’s staring. Always staring. With those eyes that see _everything_.

“I’ll paint your nails.”�

“No.”�

James grins and moves closer. 

“Oh God,”� Lily whimpers. “Please, don’t.”�

Stubborn. 

Lily leans back and makes herself comfortable, while James shakes the bottle of glittery green polish and places her right foot on his leg. 

“There’s something so... philosophical about it.”�

“About what?”�

“Nails.”�

Lily laughs. “How is that?”�

“I don’t know… I guess… well, okay... Remus always has clean nails, Peter has disgusting nails, Sirius is always wearing socks and doesn’t show anybody his nails, I’ve got large nails, and you’ve got small delicate ones that are always so well-painted. Your nails are a testimony to who you are.”�

“You’ve got large nails. What does that say about you?”�

“I’m not sure. That I’m tall?”�

“And me? Do you mean to say that I’m small and weak and psychotic enough to actually spend so much of my time painting my nails?”�

There she goes again, twisting his words. This is why she never said yes. She doesn’t understand him at all.

“Noooo,”� James says. “I was thinking cute and perfect.”�

“James, you shouldn’t…”�

“I know, I know. No flirting.”� James’ eyes shoot up to meet Lily’s for half a second before he looks down again. “Candy cane on the big toe?”�

“Sure, if you can manage.”�

“I’m doing horribly, aren’t I?”�

Lily puts a hand out and swipes untidy black hair out of the way. “Yes,”� she replies. “Rather terrible. Your friends must hate you in those pajama parties.”�

“I’m usually in charge of hair.”�

“Well, that makes sense.”�

James smiles at her. “I love your eyes like this,”� he whispers abstractedly and swears immediately afterwards. “Sorry. Things like that just come out. It’s never intentional, making a fool of myself.”�

“Like what?”�

“Huh?”�

“You love my eyes when they’re like what?”�

“When the only light that touches them are coming from a fire that’s almost burning out. Innocent and vivid.”�

Lily hands over the bottle of shimmering red, and, as James’ fingertips touch hers, she feels something in her chest clench. She regrets not doing anything and she absolutely hates herself.

“You could have given me a fairytale,”� she whispers. 

James doesn’t even care about nails anymore. They’re talking now. They’re actually _talking_ now.

“I didn’t let you,”� Lily says this as though she is accusing herself of some regrettable offense. Which she is. Which she should. “I was stupid, wasn’t I?”�

“Stubborn,”� James tells her quietly. “I really hated you for that.”� Hated it so much it made him love her more.

Lily says nothing, only stares at him. She makes him want to kill himself.

“I can break up with her.”�

Admonishing, “James…”�

“God!”� James buries his face in his hands. “I know. That’s terrible! It’s immoral.”� He puts his hands down and looks at her. “I love her.”�

“You do?”�

“Yeah.”� James nods. “Yeah — I love you more.”�

Lily struggles out of her current position and takes James’ face in her hands. She kisses him. “It’ll sort itself out.”� She kisses him again. And James doesn’t let her go this time.

It’s so desperate, and tragic, and gentle and Lily wonders how one kiss can have three contradictory qualities and still be so perfect. Passionate and tender and _James_ , who is holding her so tightly so she’d know that it’s real and he’s scared just like her and overwhelmed and she would die in those arms.

She pulls away and looks straight into his eyes. They’re both staring and it’s never been like this. 

Lily thinks that there are no words. “It’s so…”� 

No words.

“I know,”� James tells her, and thinks that they finally do understand each other. 

Lily smiles at him like he’s the sunshine and he feels his heart trying to burst out of his chest. 

“If this is a dream,”� James whispers, “I’m killing myself when I wake up.”�

Lily grins — “Merry Christmas”� — and stands up.

“You’re leaving? Just like that?”�

“I can’t stay.”�

“Why not?”�

“Because you love her, too.”� She picks up the bottles of nail polish and puts them in her pocket. “This time, I’ll be the one who waits.”�

James doesn’t want to believe that after that kiss, she’s actually walking away from him. But he has to. And he does. And just before she’s gone he calls her and she turns around and it’s those eyes again. 

James breathes through his nose because it’s easy and he can do that around Lily Evans. “Great gift.”�

  
\------end for now------

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**A/N: I read through this after I finished and thought that while some parts are pretty good, some are so pathetic and experimental. I still do like it though, in spite of the disjointedness and chaos in tones.**

**So there’s my Christmas one-shot. Review? I would really love to hear feedback on this. Merry Christmas!**


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